Labels
by Ileana Mackenzie Collins
Summary: When Dick and Babs first meet.


**In this, Dick is just beginning his Robin training and hasn't gone out on the field. Yet. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Except for the several, unfamiliar names you're about to read.**

* * *

At some point whenever the circus stopped at a big city, he would hear about the private schools of middle class families and the prestigious ones composed mainly of rich heirs to multi-million dollar companies.

So it's no surprise that Dick knows about Gotham Academy.

He just never expected to be one of its students.

* * *

Third week in school and he's starting to wonder if friendships are based from how many times you've maxed out your credit card in a week or how big your father's income is in a month.

It's not that he doesn't have friends. He does.

There's Bette Kane. She's warm and welcoming and really nice. But she's older and with her groups of girls and all they talk about is that newly opened store at 67th and celebrity crushes.

There are also the twins, Marc and Micah Tannor from Social Studies. But they're hip hop dancers. And it's not that Dick doesn't like performing – he does, especially more than academics. Dancing's just not his forte.

Then there's Steve and Dylan and Carmen and Alice and Jonah and Lucie and Will and Carter and Ali.

Still, he feels like dirt brushed into a painting. No matter how even and perfect the strokes are, _he _undeniably remains out of place.

He doesn't belong with the upper class and the wealthy.

And of course, the infamous Lance Birch is there to remind him nearly every day.

* * *

Dick closed his locker shut before suddenly finding himself pinned on it by a death grip. The low metal air shafts dug on his back and he resisted the urge to twist and sprain Lance's wrist. (Not that he really would.)

"Look what we have here," the 6th grader said, putting his face closer, "a small dick!" His two henchmen chuckled behind him.

"Leave me alone!" the younger answered, struggling to remove himself from the locker door.

"Scared, you little freak? Are you gonna call your daddy now? Or your…_manservant_?" He spat out the words, laughing.

Dick opened his mouth to retort but a female voice beat him to it. "Hey, are you really that stupid to pick on younger _and _smarter kids just because you had summer school and brat issues?!"

Small whispers spread throughout the bystanders.

Dick's brows furrowed at the words.

And so did Lance's. He peered over his shoulder to deliver a menacing look, only to receive a confident, ignorant response from Barbara Gordon.

That didn't stop him, though. "What'ya gonna do, redhead? Call the force?" He started to laugh – _probably by his redundancy_, Dick thought – but it was halfhearted.

Barbara just crossed her arms and smirked. "I have their number on speed dial. Care to see me try? Or better yet, I could send them…hmm…I don't know, a picture, maybe?" She chuckled at her inside joke while Lance's eyes grew wide. "They sure would laugh their guts out with this online photo album I found."

Lance's ego dissolved the second he realized how serous his assailant was. Acting on panic, he grabbed Dick's blazer and shoved him across the hallway floor. For a final flourish, Lance angrily stepped forward and the younger crawled back an inch on instinct. Then the bully and his fellows made their escape.

Everyone – in the hall – witnessed David take down Goliath.

Satisfied with herself, Barbara offered her hand and pulled the boy up. "Thanks," he said, getting some circulation back in his shoulder, "He'll be back, though."

She looked at the where Lance headed. "I know. Bad guys never really stop doing bad. Oh, and you're welcome!"

"How did you do that, anyway?"

"What, manage to scare him away with the power of blackmailing?"

"Yeah."

Barbara smiled, quite maniacally. "Let's just say…I do a little detective work in my spare time."

Dick grinned, chuckling. _If I only she knows what I do with mine. _He put his hand out. "I'm Dick Grayson, by the way."

"You're pretty famous around here. 'Circus freak' and 'charity case.'" Her tone and intention was entirely different from the norm. She shook his hand. "Barbara Gordon."

He clicked his tongue. "The…Commissioner's daughter. 'Cop kid.'"

Barbara nodded, as if agreeing to the labels. "Mmm-hmm. And 'Daddy's girl.'"

"Really?" Dick raised a brow. "What horrifying – I'm guessing – event led up to _that_ title?"

"You seriously have no idea?"

Dick half shrugged. "I don't believe most of what they're saying around this place."

"Good to know you're not the gossipy type."

Just then the bell rang and the two realized that they're the only ones left outside.

"How about I tell you at lunch?" She suggested, adjusting her shoulder bag, "Without all the exaggerations and over-the-top Batman appearances."

"Wouldn't miss it."

Barbara started to walk away. "Okay, then. See ya later, circus freak!"

Dick waved; a genuine smile on his small face. Gotham Academy isn't entirely _dis_asterous after all.

* * *

**I know there are stereotypes. And I most likely got some private school facts wrong. Sorry about those. I do not live in the US and I don't know much about their private schools - it's almost completely different here. Again, sorry.  
**

**But I still hope you enjoyed some Dick and Babs. And foreshadowing.**


End file.
